


The Only One

by Writing-Classic-Rock (writingfanfic)



Category: Bob Dylan (Musician)
Genre: F/M, Motorcycles, motorcycle accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 02:13:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14802404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Classic-Rock
Summary: For the prompt: 'could you write bob dylan/reader where reader helps him heal after his motorcycle crash'Heck yeah. Poor baby.





	The Only One

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You look down at your boyfriend, and close your eyes, thanking whoever is listening once more that he’s still here, and then kiss his forehead; he smiles weakly up at you, and you wonder briefly how he avoided hospital. He could’ve-

“Don’t look at me like that, honey, you’re scaring me,” he says, quietly, and you press the painkillers into his hands. “I’m fine. I swear. The docs just want me on painkillers and we’ll see how it goes.”

“Okay, baby.” You gently stroke his face. “I’d feel more comfortable if you had a neck-brace.”  _He broke his neck_. Is that even acceptable for you to think?  _He broke his fucking neck_. “How’s the…”

“I put cream on it. I just… needed a lie down. It just hurts.” You don’t want to see his arm and leg where the skin was nearly torn- the idea is cut off as you blanch a little, and he reaches up. “Baby. Thank you for being here.”

“It’s fine. I’m gonna make us some dinner, sweetheart, okay.” You lean down, kissing his head, and wonder if it’s allowed to seek therapy for someone else’s accident as you push yourself up. “I’ll get you a drink. Do you think you can come downstairs?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You push him gently, smiling, before picking up the cup from next to the sofa and strolling to the door. “You know… I don’t know if I did it on purpose.”

You pause, and he clears his throat behind you.

“I…” His voice sounds so unhappy and strained. “I can’t help but think… I mean… I think the sun got in my eyes, but there was more than that.” You turn, and he looked pained. “I think I wanted a break. And now, I got a break. And I don’t know… but I… what if I did it on purpose?”

You walk back over and gently wrap yourself around him, and he holds you, kissing your cheek gently.

“Oh, baby,” you whisper. You don’t know what that means – but you hope it isn’t true. You hope he wasn’t that desperate for some time. “I’ve got you.” He nods.

“You’re the only one who does, baby.”


End file.
